


Gorgeous.

by LeighLemont



Series: Wincesty One Shots [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental BDSM, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Sam Winchester, Brother/Brother Incest, Come Swallowing, Concerned Dean Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Stanford Era (Supernatural), Praise Kink, Sexual Dysfunction, Sibling Incest, Someone gets a facial., Subspace, Suffering, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Wincest - Freeform, anorgasmia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-24 22:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17712404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeighLemont/pseuds/LeighLemont
Summary: They needed to figure this out because it was fucking with Dean’s concept of sex as something that was simple and straightforward. They needed to figure this out because every single time it happened Sam shut down a little more and got a little more defensive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment and let me know what you think, I love em!
> 
> Edit: I updated the tags to be more in line with the final product. Tags used to say sad ending because I wasn't sure when I was going to be posting the final bit and didn't want people to read what was already here expecting any sort of resolution from Chapter 1.

Sam was gorgeous. Dean had always thought Sam was gorgeous, even if he never said it out loud. Sam laughing was gorgeous. Sam smiling was gorgeous. Sam saying something clever was gorgeous. Sam on top of him was gorgeous. 

Sam’s bangs were limp hanging in his eyes, his chest was rising and falling quickly in rhythm with his tattered breathing. The way his hips were grinding down onto Dean, unrelenting, but unsteady and desperate, was enough to make Dean’s toes curl as he arched off the mattress. It always felt so good pressed inside Sam in this tight dirty grind. Dean never wanted to not be fucking Sam, but if Sam didn’t stop the way his hips were twitching they were going to be done soon. His fingers dug into Sam’s pelvis tighter than he meant to, tight enough to leave bruises, but he couldn’t help it.

He’d been inside of Sam for so long and he was so close to coming. Dean had been on edge for what felt like an eternity, but he hadn’t let himself fall over the cliff yet. He raked his fingers down Sam’s back, holding him steady to slam upwards. Dean felt Sam’s breath exhale sharply and he knew he’d found the spot he was aiming for. He did it again. Dean wondered if this time would be the time where it finally happened. 

Judging from the small frown of concentration on Sam’s face and the way he was subconsciously worrying at his bottom lip, Dean was gathering tonight was going to be another no. 

“Easy kiddo.” Dean said with a shaky laugh as Sam lost his rhythm and his hips snapped forward against Dean’s. Sam let out a strangled groan of frustration. There was so much stimulation, so much sensation, he wanted it so bad and it just wouldn’t happen. Sam pushed Dean’s hand away from where it was wrapped around the base of his cock. Sam was so hard it hurt, but the friction from Dean’s hand wasn’t giving him any relief. Seeming to get the message, Dean pulled his hand away and pushed Sam’s bangs back off his forehead. “It’s not going to happen if you keep breaking your rhythm.”

Dean hadn’t thought anything of Sam’s issue the first time they’d had sex after Stanford. Things had been weird between them, new-but-familiar and confusing. Dean hadn’t been sure about the nature of their relationship when Sam had joined him on the road. Before Stanford, Dean and Sam had had a rhythm, on and off the hunt. They’d had a fundamental understanding of each other and had occasionally shared a leisurely fuck when left to their own devices. 

The ambiguity of Sam coming back had been a weird change for both of them as they’d stumbled around new superficial personal boundaries neither of them were sure had ever existed between them. All it had taken for the distance to fall away was for Sam to slip into Dean’s bed seven weeks after Jessica’s death, tugging at Dean’s sleeve and breathing ‘please’ against the shell of Dean’s ear. Dean had turned his head and closed his mouth over Sam’s without question or hesitation.

That first fuck after Sam had come back had been emotionally complicated and confusing for both of them. Dean wasn’t used to sex being complicated or confusing. He’d been having sex with regularity, as often as possible when he wanted a distraction, since his late teens and he’d never found sex complicated. Sex was easy. He knew what to do, he knew what to say, he knew how to act, and what people wanted from him. Sex with Sam had always been a bit different; a little more attached, a little more vulnerable, but, like all sex, it had always been easy.

It wasn’t easy anymore. 

The first time Sam had been a complete wreck, ripped open and shivering, wanting but conflicted, and Dean had fallen apart with him. As far as sex went, it hadn’t been particularly hot or satisfying. Half of it had been Dean murmuring reassurances to Sam that wanting this didn’t mean Sam didn’t love Jessica, that he was allowed to miss her and want Dean at the same time. The other half had been Sam murmuring to Dean that wanting each other didn’t make them evil. Sam hadn’t come then and, given the circumstances, Dean hadn’t been surprised.

The problem was Sam hadn’t come any time since either, and it wasn’t for lack of opportunity or effort. Dean wasn’t sure if Sam had this problem with every partner, but Sam wasn’t exactly jumping to try with anyone else to see. Sam had never been into casual sex the way Dean was, but he’d had his fair share and he wasn’t a saint. Sam never bothered at all now. Dean was pretty sure he was the only one Sam had slept with in months and Sam had resisted all of Dean’s attempts to set him up when they went out. 

“Dean just...it’s fine.” Sam slurred, sounding defeated. His voice was still tight with arousal, but he looked exhausted. Dean could feel the insides of Sam’s thighs trembling slightly from fatigue against him and he ran gentle hands over them to sooth the shaking. Dean didn’t look much more together than Sam. He was covered in sweat too, his skin flushed, his body strung tight with the need for release. 

“You need to stop thinking or -” 

Sam wasn’t listening to him though. Sam’s lip was caught tightly between his teeth as his hips shuddered again involuntarily, pushing Dean deeper and directly against Sam’s prostate. The pressure was overwhelming, and he felt so overstimulated that he wasn’t even sure the shocks going through his body were pleasurable anymore, but he couldn’t stop his hips from grinding forwards into the sensation. Sam let out a broken moan, the look on his face full of want and almost pain. 

“-Jesus Sam, don’t move like that.” Dean grabbed at Sam’s hips as they ground against him, trying to still the movement and concentrating very hard on anything but the intense sensations of how hot and tight Sam felt around him. ”I’m too close.”

“It’s okay if you do.” Sam said breathlessly as he managed to still his shaking hips and resume their slow grind from before. Sam still sounded calm even though his voice was rough and tired. Despite how wrecked he was, Sam didn’t sound upset, just apologetic and maybe a little embarrassed. “ It’s not going to happen. I’m close, but I’m not. I mean...I feel close...but I just can’t...I don’t know.”

“You gotta relax, Sam.” Dean replied through gritted teeth. He could feel the tension coiled tight in Sam’s body and in his jerky movements. Unfortunately, Sam was still moving. Why did Sam always have to be moving? Why did it have to feel so fucking good to feel Sam moving? If Sam didn’t quit it soon he was going to lose it. “Easy Sammy.” 

He felt Sam moan again as another series of overstimulated shocks rocked his body at the nickname. Even though Sam always insisted he didn’t like it, that ‘it’s Sam, not Sammy’, the way it made Sam react during sex always betrayed the truth. Dean hissed out a breath in response to the increased speed of Sam’s twitches and reached up with one hand, combing his fingers through Sam’s hair and then gently tugging at the end. It made goosebumps erupt over Sam’s skin.

“F-fuck.” Sam whimpered, helpless against the way his skin felt like it was on fire. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Dean’s chest, trying to calm his own pounding heart by feeling the steady fast thud of Dean’s beneath him. He curled his hands underneath Dean’s back and around Dean’s shoulders, stretching out and trying to make his muscles less wound, less tense and painful. Dean’s arms curled around him, fingers gripping into Sam’s skin and anchoring him close. 

Sam: wrung out, out of control, desperate for relief, shuddering, clinging to him, moaning, tight and clenched around him. Even though this had gone so far past pleasure and had crossed the line into agony, Sam was gorgeous. 

The shift in angle as Sam stretched out on top of him was too much. The way Sam was quivering wrapped around Dean’s whole body was enough enough to make his head spin. Dean wasn’t as deep inside Sam anymore at this angle, but Sam’s muscles gripped and dragged across the tip of Dean’s dick and it was enough to finally send him over the edge. Dean groaned, tipping his head back against the pillow unable to hold back any longer. His own thrusting went erratic and after so long waiting the waves of sensation seemed to go on forever. 

Sam closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on making it as good as possible while Dean got his. Sam sucked small kisses into the curve of his jaw as the last shocks of orgasm left Dean breathless against the bed-sheets. It was the best Sam could do. Dean had been so patient with him every single time they had tried and it always ended the same way regardless of their efforts. At least he could still get Dean off even if he was too broken to get there himself. 

No matter what they did or when, no what position, no matter who was fucking who, or how fucking good it felt, or how long they went, Sam was always left hard, aching, and angry with his body afterwards. He tucked his face into Dean’s neck, hiding from whatever conversation they were going to have this time about it. He didn’t think he could smile and say ‘next time’ with any amount of hope or believably again. Sam let out an unwilling half-strangled sob, too raw and tired to be able to keep the facade that this new ‘problem’ didn’t bother him. 

Surprising him, Dean’s hands very carefully come to rest on Sam’s sweat slick back without comment. Dean could still feel Sam, hard and hot pressing into his stomach, but Dean didn’t reach for him again. Sam had already given up and he’d shrink away ashamed if Dean tried anything more now. He swept a hand through Sam’s hair, leaving it there for a moment before sighing softly and trailing his hand back to rest on Sam’s shoulder.

They lied there for awhile, not moving except for the occasional twitch from Sam as their breathing came back to normal. Dean was still inside him, but was quickly losing his hardness. They weren’t moving anymore and it was starting to feel a little cool lying there uncovered in the hotel room. Sam felt an unpleasant shiver run through him and considered moving. His thighs had started to cramp twenty minutes ago in this position. He was probably heavy draped over Dean like this. He braced himself for the unpleasant feeling of Dean slipping free and pushed himself up and off of his brother without warning. 

Sam winced at the loss and Dean made a soft uncomfortable noise at the sensation the movement caused while he was still so sensitive. Sam couldn’t help but glance at Dean’s face. He looked sated, but concerned and sad, even a little guilty. He found it was hard to meet Dean’s eyes and Sam couldn’t look at the expression any longer. This wasn’t Dean’s fault, but Sam couldn’t stomach talking about it and the blame all on his own for his lack of performance...again. He eased off of Dean, and rolled over onto his side, facing away. 

Dean listened to the harsh sound of Sam’s breathing. It was too fast to be relaxed or natural. Dean turned his head to study Sam lying beside him. Sam’s back was too stiff, his shoulders set too rigid. Neither of them were going to go to seep, even if they turned off all the lights and lied there without talking for hours. Even if one of them switched to the other bed to give them both the illusion of privacy through the night they would still lie there too aware of each other to drift off. Dean sat up and pressed a quick resigned kiss to Sam’s bare shoulder before getting up to dispose of the condom and to clean himself up a bit in the washroom. 

Ten minutes later, after a quick shower he hadn’t planned on having, Dean was sitting on the side of the tub wearing only his boxers that he’d snatched up off the floor on his way in. He didn’t know what to do and he was stalling in the bathroom. He’d just had a crazy orgasm, but he felt so guilty about it. Dean had never felt guilty about sex before in his life before this had started happening and he didn’t know how to fix any of it. He couldn’t even pinpoint exactly why he felt guilty. Sure, he didn’t like getting off when Sam couldn’t, but there was something more to it that he couldn’t place and it made him feel uneasy. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and got up reaching for the tap and a plastic cup from the bathroom counter. He studied his own face in the mirror, trying to ignore the helpless expression in his own eyes as he drank from the cup. 

They needed to figure this out because it was fucking with Dean’s concept of sex as something that was simple and straightforward. They needed to figure this out because every single time it happened Sam shut down a little more and got a little more defensive.

Something had to work. Somehow. There had to be something. 

Dean swallowed the rest of the water, setting the plastic cup carefully back down on the counter before facing the door swallowing down the lump of worry in his throat. God there had to be something because he didn’t know how much longer they could keep doing this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I wanna get you off.” Dean said in a measured voice. It wasn’t his usual approach to trying to seduce someone. There was nothing suave about it, or clever. It was just a bold statement of fact that he threw out between them to test the water. He was studying Sam’s face, looking for any reaction he could find in Sam’s features. Dean had talked his way past so many belt buckles and flirted his way into so many shirts with blinding charisma, but that kind of dirty talk wouldn’t work on Sam.

The bedside lamp was still on when Dean pushed open the bathroom door, but Sam was laying on his side turned away. He hadn’t bothered to dress or pull up any covers. Dean saw two options from where he was standing. He could: lay there in silence on the opposite bed from Sam and pretend space was going to do something to help either of them, or, lay directly next to Sam in silence and have Sam shiver away from him if he accidentally touched Sam in the night. 

The first few times they’d tried hadn’t been so bad. They’d been able to brush it off and Sam hadn’t gone completely avoidant afterwards. They’d slept curled around each other after the first time, but they’d both been so wrung out emotionally that they hadn’t really cared how lacking it had been physically. That hadn’t really been about sex anyway. It had been about grief and pain, about acknowledging the history between them and choosing how they were going to move forward. 

Each time afterwards, once there was no denying the issue existed, once it was obvious they had a problem, Sam stepped back and put some of the distance back in place. With each failed attempt, Sam got quieter, less likely to initiate, and more awkward about his body. Dean hadn’t seen Sam this at odds with his own skin since his early days of puberty where several growth spurts over the course of only a few months had left Sam long and lanky, always starving, with huge hands that didn’t fit the rest of his body, and uncoordinated legs.

Sam had hated his body then as much as he seemed to now, but things had changed. Things always changed, so maybe they could change this too.

Dean made his choice and walked across the room. 

Sam didn’t stir when Dean’s weight made the mattress dip beside him, but he was still awake. Dean couldn’t see his whole face, but Sam was still strung tight and too rigid to be asleep.

Dean lied back beside Sam and thought about all the times he’d had sex with Sam before Stanford and wondered what was different now. The answer to that question was: a lot. A lot was different. Dad was nowhere they could figure out, Sam had fallen in love with a girl and then lost her to Yellow-Eyes, and Dean still resented Sam for leaving the way he had even though it was dad’s fault Sam hadn’t called. He knew all of that was there in the room with them every time they took their clothes off, but they were working on that and they were rebuilding. He didn’t hate Sam for leaving even though the loss had stung like a bitch for months. Part of him had always hoped Sam would get out, while the other half was selfishly glad he was back on the road now. 

He thought about all the times Sam had been on top of him, underneath him, inside of him, and the blissed out look Sam got when he was trembling through an orgasm. Sam had always been so loose and pliant in Dean’s hands; open and unafraid. Dean had had a lot of practice. He knew what Sam liked, and he knew he did it well, but it wasn’t working anymore. He thought about what it was like sleeping with Sam now; with Sam strung tight and barely breathing as though both afraid he wouldn't come and terrified he would. If Sam could get past whatever block was causing him to tense up, maybe they had a shot. He didn’t know if he could make Sam relax that far though. Sam was skeptical and on alert by nature. So was Dean. It had been trained into them from a young age not to let down their respective guards.

Dean decided to roll the dice and take option three because lying here in silence was going to get them no sleep and no further to resolving this. He wasn’t going to lay here with this weird tension hanging thick between them and he sure as hell wasn't going to go lie on the other bed and let Sam believe whatever self-deprecating monologue he had running through his head. Dean rolled onto his side behind Sam, fitting his hips tight up against Sam and curling his arm around Sam’s stomach. He felt Sam flinch as though he was going to pull away, but he settled back against Dean instead. Dean considered it a small victory. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Sam said, closing his eyes as though that would make Dean go away. He couldn't talk about it again right now. Sam could feel his face flushing with shame and embarrassment and was glad he was facing away from Dean. Dean had sex all the time, whenever he felt like it, unapologetically and without any consequence. Sam was pretty sure Dean had never had an issue like this before. It was mortifying having Dean know, but Dean had always been who he’d looked to for reassurance when something was wrong. It was confusing and tangled and Sam didn’t like trying to sort it out even though he knew he should. 

“Okay. We don’t gotta. I don’t like to anyway.” Dean mumbled, nosing at Sam’s neck. Sam tensed slightly in his arms at the touch. “I don’t really want to talk.”

“Come on Dean. I’m not up for round two.” 

“Not round two.” Dean mumbled, pulling at Sam’s shoulder to get him to roll over. “Come on Sam, at least look at me.” 

“Leave me alone.” Sam pleaded softly. He didn’t think Dean would listen. Dean was worried about him and a worried Dean Winchester wasn’t someone who backed off until he was sure Sam was alright. 

“Do you trust me, Sam?” Dean asked, surprising Sam with the question. Something in Dean’s tone must have conveyed his naked concern because when Sam huffed and turned his upper half to look at him. Dean scanned his expression. Sam just looked sad, not ready for a fight like Sam normally got when he was cornered. Sam hadn’t been crying, but he was close. The rims of his eyes were red and his lips were pressed into the thin line they became whenever he was defensive and hurt.

“Yeah, but-”

“No, just yes or no.” Dean interrupted. “Do you trust me?” 

Sam swallowed and then nodded slowly. “Yeah. I trust you.” 

“I wanna get you off.” Dean said in a measured voice. It wasn’t his usual approach to trying to seduce someone. There was nothing suave about it, or clever. It was just a bold statement of fact that he threw out between them to test the water. He was studying Sam’s face, looking for any reaction he could find in Sam’s features. Dean had talked his way past so many belt buckles and flirted his way into so many shirts with blinding charisma, but that kind of dirty talk wouldn’t work on Sam. 

“It’s not going to work.” Sam huffed, eyes darting away from Dean’s instantly. “We’ve tried everything Dean. I don’t want to keep...it’s not going to happen.” 

“Let it be my responsibility.” Dean said quietly, leaning down over Sam and running his lips against Sam’s jaw. He smoothed a gentle hand down Sam’s chest and sucked a kiss into the pulse-point below Sam’s ear. “All I want you to do is focus on staying relaxed.” 

“Dean-” 

“Let me do this.” Dean urged softly, lifting his mouth from Sam’s skin to look him in the eyes. “Let me do this for you, Sammy. Focus on breathing, and keeping your muscles from tensing up and I’ll do the rest.” 

He kissed the corner of Sam’s mouth where Sam was biting his lip in hesitation. 

“I don’t know-” Sam said shakily. 

“If you really want me to stop, I’ll stop.” Dean murmured, his lips close enough to brush against Sam’s as he spoke. “But I want to make you feel good, Sam. I know how. I just need you to let me.”

Sam licked his lips. He had no idea how Dean thought he was going to accomplish this when the two of them hadn’t managed it in months of combined effort, but Dean seemed so sure and Dean believed in things so rarely that it was hard to fight him when he did. If he believed he could do this, Sam was inclined to let him try. 

“Okay.” Sam swallowed. He turned his hips on the mattress so that he was properly lying on his back. 

“Breathe with me.” Dean said, his voice soft but full of practiced authority. Dean’s breath was warm against Sam’s cheek as he supported himself above his little brother. He set an easy rhythm of steady inhales and exhales that Sam mirrored almost immediately. “Good, baby; keep that rhythm.”

Sam nodded, a little surprised at the pet-name. Dean didn’t usually call him baby. He wondered if it was something that had just slipped out or whether Dean had meant to say it. He looked up at Dean’s face and found an expression of calm concentration and reassurance. Dean certainly didn’t look like he was doing anything without intention. Sam shivered, not sure what to make of it, but he was almost sure he liked it. 

His brain was wandering and wondering, but Sam kept the same steady pace with his breathing while Dean pressed one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before starting down Sam’s body. He could feel Dean’s hands working into his muscles, gentle but firm, smoothing over him as though trying to tease any tension out of his flesh. The pressure felt good. His breath hitched at the sensation and he quickly corrected to the same steady pace he’d been focused on. Dean had told him to focus on that. It was important. 

“Good job, Sammy.” Dean praised from somewhere near his left pectoral. Sam felt a rush of pleasure in his gut that he wasn’t expecting at the praise, but he tried not to think about it. He was supposed to be concentrating on being relaxed. It was hard to be though. Dean’s tongue was on his skin and he let out a soft moan as Dean sucked Sam’s nipple delicately between his teeth. Sam started counting seconds in his head to help keep his breathing deep and even the way Dean wanted him to. It was proving difficult, and Dean hadn’t even touched his dick yet. Sam groaned on an exhale and felt his hips cant forward searching for friction. 

“We have time, Sam.” Dean said in that same gentle authoritative voice. He sat back a little bit and absently rubbed the tip of Sam’s nipple between his fingers as he spoke. He ran his other hand circled over Sam’s stomach, soothing the muscles flat again as they started tensing up. “It’s not a race. We’ll get there, I promise, but don’t try to get ahead of me.” 

“Okay.” Sam exhaled, darting another quick look at Dean’s face. It wasn’t hard to agree with Dean sounding so patient and sure beside him. He forced his shoulders back against the mattress and pulled a deep breath into his lungs, still watching Dean. He found if he watched the rising and falling of Dean’s chest it was easier to fall into the same pattern, like his own personal metronome. 

It was overwhelming having Dean this concentrated on him. Dean generally approached sex like it was anything but serious; silly, fun, enthusiastic, hilarious, but never serious. This was different. This was all focus and intensity. Dean's face was full of calculation and study, like Sam was something to be taken apart and put back together again. Even though it was a hard gaze to exist beneath, Sam didn’t really feel nervous. This attentiveness from Dean was new though, and he didn’t feel completely familiar either. He settled his insecurity with the thought that this was Dean. Dean would take care of him, he always did. All Sam needed to do was breathe. He could do that if Dean wanted him to.

“That’s it. Good boy.” Dean said, his voice warm, when Sam had finally let the muscles he’d been holding tight loosen and relax against the warm sheets and had resumed a steady deep pace with his air. “I’m going to touch you now, Sam. Keep your body calm.”

Sam nodded and swallowed again. He was relieved when Dean's hands reached out and made contact with his skin, but this wasn’t what Sam had expected when Dean had told him he was going to touch him. It was hard to keep himself from squirming underneath Dean's hands.

Dean started at his neck. Careful and light, Dean's hands dragged against his skin as they wove twin paths across his chest, over his shoulders, down his arms. Dean lingered to press his fingertips between Sam’s knuckles gently massaging the spaces in between his fingers. Dean hesitated on the space of Sam’s rib cage, pressing a kiss there before he let his hands wander the expanse of Sam’s stomach, Sam's six pack, the dip of his pelvis, the ticklish spot just above Sam’s pubic hair. Dean pressed his tongue there, eliciting a shiver from Sam and giving himself a moment to lap at Sam’s skin before he continued his journey down Sam’s body. Dean’s hands skimmed across his thighs, curled around his calves, and studied the bone of his ankle before coming back up to his waist.

Sam had never had anyone touch him like this before. He’d never thought of most of these places as particularly sexual, but he was so hard by the time Dean was done that his dick was flushed and pressed against his stomach. It was like he could still feel Dean's fingertips brushing over his skin in all the places Dean had trailed his attention. 

“Look at me.” Dean said softly with a small chuckle as he watched Sam's muscles flex and relax again as he withdrew. Sam opened his eyes, never really having registered that he’d closed them and blinked up at Dean. "I'm going to blow you." 

"Okay." Sam murmured back. Dean didn't seem like he was asking a question, but he nodded to acknowledge Sam's reply and then focused on the task at hand. 

Dean worked slowly, holding Sam’s cock in a feather-light grip that was driving Sam crazy. Sam wanted to lift his hips from the mattress and fuck into Dean’s hand, beg him to grip tighter, or move faster, or something at least, but he didn’t. Instead, he focused on making sure to fill his lungs the whole way and to exhale fully while his skin buzzed from the lingering sensations of Dean’s hands and tongue. 

Even though he was watching when Dean’s mouth closed around the tip of his dick, he wasn’t ready for the explosion it caused in his nerve endings. His eyes slipped closed again as he force himself to breathe through the rush of endorphins shimmering across his whole body. Then Dean started to suck. 

It took a long time for Dean to swallow him all the way down. He started by sucking just the head, his tongue flicking over the tip while he let his fingers work a gentle circle around the base of Sam’s shaft. He knew what Sam liked here and he knew how to do it well. He knew what pressure to apply when and how to make Sam’s toes curl, but he didn’t want to yet. Sam was still nervous, still a little jittery and he didn’t want to risk making Sam lock up by trying too soon. He dipped low, finally letting Sam’s dick hit the back of his throat and swallowing around the head. He stayed there, letting Sam’s cock twitch in his throat. He heard Sam sigh almost as if relieved and he hummed back in answer. He felt goosebumps erupt over Sam’s thighs and he backed off. 

Dean sat back, and curled a loose fist around the shaft of Sam’s dick and started to twist his wrist in a small back and forth rotation against Sam’s spit slick skin. The glide was easy and slow and Dean didn’t intend to pick up the speed anytime soon. He was watching Sam’s chest rise and fall in the same steady rhythm. Ever so often his chest would hitch when Dean’s thumb swept over Sam’s slit, but it picked up evenly again immediately, as though Sam wasn’t even concentrating on it anymore. Sam’s lips were parted slightly, and his eyes were closed, but his expression was unclouded and if Dean wasn’t mistaken he could see the smallest upwards pull of contentment at the corner of Sam’s mouth. 

He set his lips to the base of Sam’s shaft and started to kiss and suck his away across Sam’s pelvis. He heard Sam moan in answer, but he stayed languid underneath Dean’s hands and mouth. Dean felt a limp hand come to rest on his shoulder and he hummed against Sam’s skin in reply. He felt Sam’s finger’s twitch against his shoulder blade at the sensation before Sam pulled his hand away again. 

“Pass me the lube, Sam.” Dean said quietly after a while of sucking a bruise into Sam’s hip while he continued his lazy circles around Sam’s cock. The muscles in Sam’s stomach were starting to twitch against his control, but they weren’t locking up. Sam was still breathing, and he had his head resting back on the pillows. So far, so good as far as Dean could tell. 

“What?” Sam asked. His voice sounded far away and completely out of it. He’d lifted his head from the pillows to look down at Dean and his pupils were blown wide with arousal. The expression on Sam’s face made him forget about his request momentarily. Without breaking eye-contact Dean licked his lips, and then swallowed Sam all the way down again in one smooth motion. It earned him a low groan and Sam’s head falling back into the mattress as his back arched. 

Sam’s breathing slammed to a halt and he lost count of the seconds in his head. He felt panic flood the pit of his stomach. 

He couldn’t do it. He was going to fail again. He couldn't do it.

Dean reached up instinctively and smoothed his hand over Sam’s stomach, finding tension already starting to build beneath his fingers. He pulled his mouth back off of Sam, sad to lose the feeling of Sam thick and deep in his throat, but knowing if he let Sam keep going like this they’d be back to the writhing mess of frustration they’d managed to work Sam into before. He’d have Sam’s cock in his mouth again soon anyway. 

“Dean.” Sam whispered between his panted breaths. His breathing had gone completely erratic, his careful rhythm completely broken. He’d managed a steady pace for so long, but he couldn’t get his breathing back under control again now. He wanted desperately for Dean to go down on him again. He wanted so badly for Dean to tell him he was still being good. It felt so fucking good. He wanted it so bad. He needed it. God, he couldn’t stop shaking and his abs were starting to tense into that sore knot again like they did every single time. “Dean-”

“Shh, Sammy.” Dean reassured him. He put both his hands on Sam’s stomach and started applying the same gentle pressure and strokes to Sam’s tensing muscles as he had before. “Come back down, baby. Shh. Not yet.” 

Dean was causing some sort of short circuit in his brain with the pet-names and judging by the smug but content smile on his brother’s face, he knew it. Sam closed his eyes and tried to listen to Dean. Dean wanted him to relax again. He’d done that before. He could do that again. 

“Good.” Sam could hear a quiet satisfaction in Dean’s voice. He felt one of Dean’s hands trail the side of his face an he leaned into the touch, forcing a low exhale from his chest before focusing on the next inhale. “Perfect Sam. Just like that.”

He felt his stomach swoop again with that same rush of pleasure. When had he gotten so into the idea of Dean praising him? He licked his lips, feeling his cheeks colour as he considered how fucking badly he wanted to do what Dean told him to. 

“What are you embarrassed about, Sam?” Dean interrupted his train of thought. Dean didn’t normally call him out so directly. There was something about Dean right now that made Sam want to listen and respond. He wanted to be good. He wanted Dean to tell him he was being good. He needed to hear it again. 

“I-it’s a lot.” Sam stuttered through his newly re-established breathing, trying to put his thoughts in order but finding them fragmented and difficult to assemble. “It’s too much...I want to be... I can’t do it, Dean-”

“You don’t have to do anything, Sammy.” Dean reminded him, leaning over him and scrubbing a hand through Sam’s hair. He scraped his teeth across Sam’s jaw before pressing his lips once to Sam’s and then resting their foreheads together. “That’s my responsibility. You just breathe. I do the rest.” 

“I held my breath.” Sam whispered. It felt like admitting a dirty secret even though he knew Dean already knew. He was pretty sure that’s why Dean had stopped. He was vaguely aware that the guilt he was feeling was disproportionate, but he couldn’t help it. 

“That was my fault.” Dean said, shaking his head and bumping his nose against Sam’s. “I worked you up without warning. You’re okay, Sammy. You’re doing great.” 

Thank fuck. There it was again. God, he’d do anything if it meant hearing Dean telling him he was good. He nodded quickly and felt Dean press another kiss to his mouth, this time swiping his tongue playfully at Sam’s upper lip before he retreated to wrap his hand back around Sam’s dick. When they’d fallen back into a gentle pace and Sam seemed to have settled anew, Dean tried again keeping himself in check this time.

“Lube, Sam.” Dean repeated his earlier request. Sam could reach it on the nightstand easier than he could. Sam’s hand was clumsy when he handed the bottle to Dean. 

“Bend your knees.” Dean said, running his clean hand gently over the skin of Sam’s hip. He flipped open the lid to the bottle with a gentle popping sound. He knew Sam would still be open and loose from before so he wasn't all that worried about stretching him open, but he wanted the glide to be as easy as possible. “It’ll be more comfortable.” 

Sam didn’t reply, but he moved exactly how Dean had requested even though his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. The quality of the movement didn’t escape his notice and Dean glanced up at Sam’s face, frowning in consideration. Sam was liquid underneath him, pliant and relaxed, but almost vacant. Dean bit his lip, considering his next move as realization dawned on him. He’d wanted Sam to relax, but he got the distinct impression that Sam was further into his own subconscious than Dean had meant to push him. Suddenly Sam's broken sentences and the shivers that went through him every time Dean encouraged him made sense and it made him hesitate. 

He had no idea if Sam had ever experienced subspace before, but he was almost sure that’s what had happened from the hooded look in Sam’s eyes and the way he seemed to be floating. Somehow Dean’s reassurances and instructions had worked too well and he’d coaxed Sam there without really meaning to. They’d never talked about this kind of thing, or tried it. Dean had had a lot of crazy nights with a lot of adventurous people so he wasn’t completely inexperienced with it, but he’d never done something like that with Sam. He took his hands away from Sam’s dick and snapped the cap closed on the bottle before he slipped back up Sam’s body to curl an arm around Sam’s shoulders.

“Hey, baby boy. Look at me.” Dean said, giving Sam a quick squeeze. Sam turned to focus on Dean’s face. “You with me, Sammy?” 

“Yeah.” Sam whispered after a few seconds with a shaky nod. 

“How do you feel?” 

“I don’t know.” Sam answered slowly sounding vaguely surprised, all of a sudden aware of how strange he felt. “Kind of tingly.”

“Do you like or dislike it?” Dean asked curiously, keeping his tone neutral. 

“I think so.” Sam frowned. “Like it, I mean.”

“Do you want me to keep going?” Dean asked. “If you want me to stop, it’s okay. We can stop.” 

“I don’t want you to stop.” Sam shook his head. 

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, watching Sam’s eyes carefully for any flicker of doubt or insecurity. Sam nodded back in response. He didn’t find anything in Sam’s expression that made him veto Sam’s yes, so he settled back between Sam’s legs again, helping Sam bend his knees back into position and picking up the bottle off the mattress. He poured some of the cold liquid over his fingers and rolled them together to warm it up. “If you need to stop, all you need to do is say no. Can you do that?” 

Sam nodded again, breathing in time with the rise and fall of Dean’s shoulders again. Sam felt Dean’s fingertips, circle gently around his entrance once before he pushed two inside at once, pressing up to the knuckle before withdrawing to do it again. Dean let him get used to the intrusion before settling back down over the tip of Sam’s dick and sucking it loosely into his mouth again. He felt Sam contract slightly against where his fingers were pressed inside at the added stimulation from Dean’s mouth. 

He angled his fingers looking for the small spot inside of Sam that would make this feel impossibly better. He was pretty sure Sam would be close soon and that this time, if Dean pushed Sam towards the finish line Sam would finally make it. He was pretty sure this time Sam was relaxed enough, loose enough. He wasn’t desperate, he wasn’t straining into Dean’s touch, he wasn’t shivering or losing control of his body as it shuddered for relief.

Instead, Sam’s hands were laying calmly on his stomach, smoothed out over his own skin and lacking the trembling urgency from before. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling steadily. Sam’s lips parted in a small ‘o’ of surprise and pleasure when Dean finally pushed against the spot he was looking for. Dean readjusted the angle of his fingers to reach better and then began to rub small soft circles over the mound of flesh. He pulled off of Sam’s dick, pressing his lips to the shaft again, sucking there for a few seconds before ghosting his breath back over Sam’s slit. 

“My god, you’re gorgeous Sam.” Dean whispered as he watched a pink flush creep across Sam’s chest in response, his nipples peeking into hard pebbles as Sam continued to force his chest to rise and fall in time. His lips caught against the tip of Sam’s dick as he spoke and his unoccupied hand scratched lightly into Sam’s pelvis as he massaged the fingers of his other over Sam’s prostate with increased pressure and speed. “So perfect, Sammy.” 

“Dean-” Sam gasped in surprise at the familiar heat that coiled tight in his stomach at the sound of Dean’s approval. It was all the warning he managed to get out before he was coming against Dean’s lips, painting a messy stripe across Dean’s cheek before Dean leaned forward and took him down deep into the back of his throat. He swallowed and sucked Sam through it while he worked the pads of his fingers mercilessly over Sam’s prostate. Sam’s dick was pulsing in Dean’s throat in time with the ring of muscles contracting around his hand. 

Sam was grabbing his shoulders, clawing into Dean’s skin as Sam started to shake through the aftershocks. Dean waited for Sam to hiss in discomfort and start pushing him away before he gently slipped his hand free and pulled his mouth away from Sam.

“Fuck.” Dean moaned, sitting back on his heels and shoving the hand that had just been inside his brother into his boxers to wrap around his own dick. Dean's cock was throbbing painfully. He’d been hard since he’d first spooned up in back of Sam after coming out of the bathroom, but he’d been ignoring it. He couldn’t ignore it now. Not with Sam’s come all over his face, the taste heavy across his tongue, and Sam so completely fucked out and finally satisfied lying in front of him. He used the lube left over on his hand to help ease the glide while his grip so tight around himself it almost hurt. “Fucking gorgeous.”

It took him less than three strokes and he was shooting his own load hard across Sam’s stomach. He sank back onto his heels again, trying to hear past the rushing in his ears. He wiped his mouth and face with the back of his clean hand and he dried his fingers messily on the sheets as he examined Sam, blinking up at him slowly. He seemed a little more present, his eyes a little sharper than they had been. 

“How you feeling?” Dean asked when he managed to catch his breath enough to speak. 

“Brain foggy.” Sam murmured. He had a slight headache from the sudden build and release, and it was hard to think. His skin was buzzing pleasantly, but he was also starting to feel a little cold. It was too hard to put that all into words. 

“I bet.” Dean said giving his ankle a gentle squeeze and reaching over the side of the bed to grab one of their shirts from the floor. He wiped himself dry, and then cleaned his mess from Sam’s stomach before dropping it back to the carpet and flopping down on the mattress beside Sam. Dean kicked the covers up from where they’d been hastily shoved aside during their first attempt and threw a corner over Sam. Dean was exhausted. He’d just come hard twice without a lot of recovery time, but if he was right about Sam going under by accident, he needed to pay attention now. "Let's get some rest, Sammy."

He pulled Sam close to his chest, tucking his chin over the top of Sam’s head. Sam very quickly went about tangling their legs together and attaching himself like an impossibly long octopus to Dean’s side. Sam had always been tactile when they’d been young, and Dean had always liked it more than he’d let on. He was glad Sam wanted to be this close to him now. If Sam had hit subspace, he needed to make sure Sam felt safe and secure while he came back around. He reached above Sam and clicked off the lamp, just in case they did fell asleep tangled together. It was late. 

“I feel so out of it, Dean.” Sam said quietly, starting to come back to himself some time later. He felt Dean’s arms tighten slightly around him. “That was… you kept talking...” 

“I'm sorry. I bet you do, kiddo.” Dean replied with a quiet sigh when Sam trailed off and didn't continue. “I didn't mean to fuck with your head. You’ll feel normal again soon.” 

“It felt good.” Sam said, frowning like he was conflicted. Dean sounded apologetic, but Sam didn’t feel like he needed an apology. Forming complete and coherent thoughts was a little difficult for him at the moment, but he wanted Dean to know. “You kept talking...telling me...it was good.” 

Dean pressed his lips to Sam’s forehead and made a quiet shushing sound. 

“We should talk about this when you’re a little more grounded and a little less rocket man, okay?” Dean asked. “Get some sleep, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll talk about it in the morning. Promise.” 

Sam went heavy against him, accepting his suggestion and snuggling back into the warmth of the blankets. Dean was pretty sure the conversation would be more awkward if they waited until morning, but it was worth it. Sam was completely open right now, completely willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know, but he wanted to wait until Sam could pick and choose what he shared. Dean was pretty sure they would be alright, even if the conversation would be stilted and a little forced. 

“Gorgeous, huh?” Sam asked after a few minutes, with a small yawn and a teasing tired smile. 

“Shut up.” Dean flinched, but he was smiling too. He’d half-hoped Sam had been too wrapped up in post-orgasm haze to hear him, but he hadn’t been so lucky. Sam shrugged and tucked his face back against Dean’s skin, leaving a kiss on Dean’s chest as he settled. 

Dean had always thought Sam was gorgeous, even though he’d always kept it to himself. Now that Sam was in on his secret though, it wasn’t really that bad having it out in the open.


End file.
